


The Dog Days Of Summer And Fall

by Eiiri



Series: Lycanthropic Studies [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventures in Muggle Shopping, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Hermione Granger, BAMF Molly Weasley, Brief depictions/discussion of violence, Diagon Alley, Draco Malfoy is a Bit of a Git, Era-Appropriate Homophobia (actually it's pretty mild), Everybody Else Who Died Is Still Dead and I'm Sorry, Everybody needs therapy, Everything In Austrailia Wants You Dead, F/M, Family of Choice, Fantastic Racism, Fred Lives, Gen, Hermione Granger-centric, Hermione and Draco are Friends, Hermione is Good at Potions, It's the 90s yo, M/M, Minor Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Molly Weasley is SuperMum, Molly Will Not Let You Go Unfed, Muggle/Wizard Relations, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Post-War, Remus Lupin Lives, Remus Lupin-centric Draco Malfoy-centric, Remus and Sirius have a Complicated Relationship, School Shopping, Sirius Black Lives, Sirius Black does DIY, They're Not Kids Anymore, This Is NOT About Harry, WE DO NOT HAVE ENOUGH CANON INFO ON WEREWOLVES SO I'M MAKING IT UP, Werewolf!Draco, Wolfsbane Potion, life goes on - Freeform, lycanthrophobia, past trauma, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-11-23 02:11:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11393205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eiiri/pseuds/Eiiri
Summary: Summer is coming to and end, the new school year is about to start, and somehow, in just  few short months Draco Malfoy's definition of "normal" has come to include shopping with Hermione Granger, snarking back and forth with Ginny Weasley, and after dinner Wolfsbane Potion dates with Remus Lupin nine nights a month.Along with adjusting to this new normal, Draco is still trying to settle into the person he's learning to be, even with more change on the horizon.Meanwhile, Remus has to prepare to return to his teaching post, and Hermione has some muggleborn homesickness to work out.





	1. Chapter 1

Hogwarts letters arrived mid-August, the envelopes unusually fat. There were explanations inside about the delay of start of term until the first of October, and the option Headmistress McGonagall was extending to all students to re-take the previous year's coursework, along with a form to be filled out and sent back indicating what level and what classes each student would be taking, if they were taking a year off and what level they'd be taking upon their return, or, in the case of the past year's seventh years electing not to return, which testing session they'd like to sit their make-up N.E.W.T.s.

Sitting next to Harry in the kitchen while Ginny, Hermione, and Draco filled out their return forms, Ron gave Hermione an incredulous look. “Why are you, of all people, going back? Actually, no, nevermind, I know you, you're going back for exactly the same reason you don't have to go back.” He sighed and turned his incredulity on Draco. “Why are _you_ going back?”

“I don't know.” Draco shrugged. “Seems like I ought to go, get a proper finish to my schooling because last year was bullshit.”

“You do know that he was in the top ten of our class until sixth year, don't you?” Hermione said. “Even then he only dropped down to top twenty.”

“...Really?” Harry asked with more surprise than was good for Draco's ego.

“Yes, really.” Draco rolled his eyes. “I didn't do much but Quiddich and studying until my life's work was suddenly making up for my father's failings. Unlike you, I wasn't busy finding ways to break every school rule under the pretense of saving the world.”

“Huh,” Ginny said, sounding bored, “you're _not_ stupid. Who knew?”

Draco glared at her. She didn't look up from her form.

Within a week of sending in their forms, the three returning students received their supply lists. Remus went with them to Diagon Ally, since he had his own shopping to do in preparation for returning to his teaching post, and Sirius tagged along because he could.

As they walked along Diagon Ally, Sirius stretched and laced his fingers under his ponytail. “I love shopping.”

“You love being out of the house,” Remus corrected.

“Well, yes,” Sirius said like it was obvious. “Over a decade of incarceration will do that to a person.”

Remus shrugged and eyed a couple old gossiping biddies who were eyeing Sirius and his ponytail from over by a produce cart. Hermione and Draco shared a glance. Ginny hooked her thumbs in her beltloops. “Hey, Lupin, what do you need to shop for?”

“Books for my own classes, notebooks for lesson planning, quills, ink—”

“Clothes,” Sirius added. Remus glared at him. “What? Are you that protective of your carefully cultivated status as the most homeless looking teacher Hogwarts has ever had?”

Remus took a breath. “Okay, and clothes.”

“Let's start with books, though,” Hermione suggested, stepping forward to lead the group to Flourish and Blotts, half hidden as it was behind scaffolding for repairs like many of the shops on the street. The rest were either still run down from the trauma of the last year, or gleamed with fresh paint, new windows and signs.

Inside, the bookshop was the same as it always had been, which was a comfort. It wasn't as busy as it usually was the last week of August, but there were students milling about with their parents, buying school books, older witches perusing volumes on handicrafts and cooking, a few young children tucked into the kids' corner to giggle at the moving pictures of storybooks.

Hermione, Ginny, and Draco rounded up their schoolbooks. Draco briefly had a book on the top of his stack with a markedly stationary cover illustration, which Hermione craned to peer at, but Remus came over to drop copies of _The Art and Theory of Defensive and Protective Magic_ on each of their piles. “If the three of you don't get top marks in my class, I'm giving you all detention for inexcusable laziness.”

He walked away, his own stack of books floating along behind him, leashed to the tip of his wand with a barely visible shimmer in the air. Hermione and Draco exchanged glances. She shrugged. “He has a point.”

Ginny crossed her arms. “At this point the lot of us ought to be excused.”

“She also has a point,” Draco said. Hermione shrugged again and grabbed another book. When they went to pay, Sirius had a thick tome under one arm, emblazoned with the title _Household Maintenance and Magic._ Remus arched an eyebrow at him and he shrugged.

Once they were out of the bookshop, Sirius dragged Remus across the street to Madam Malkin's. Ginny jerked her head the other direction. “Let's go to the twins' place.”

No one objected. Fred and George's shop was much busier than Flourish and Blotts and loud with chatter and laughter. Seamus was at the counter, cashiering. He glanced up at the sound of the door chime. “Oh, hey, Hermione, Ginny,” he paused, “Malfoy.”

“Ginny!” Fred and George called from the mezanine.

“Hermione!” George added as they both hopped the railing.

“And ferret boy,” Fred concluded as they landed.

“Am I going to be defined by ninety seconds of my life when I was fourteen for the rest of my life?” Draco asked irritably.

“Yes,” the twins said together.

Fred threw an arm across Draco's shoulders. “But don't worry, there's plenty of other things we can call you, you unripe turnip.”

“Prince of prats,” George said.

“Salu-dick-torian,” Fred snickered.

“Angry dandelion.”

“A-melanistic malcontent.”

“Poorly socialized Pomeranian.”

“Mini-Moony.”

“Bleached wheat.”

“Her Majesty's corgi.”

“Aristocratic arse.”

“Hermione's punching bag,” Ginny suggested.

“That's true,” Fred said approvingly. “Which reminds me, what was it you called him, Hermione? A vile little cockroach?”

“Alright, alright, point made,” Draco grumbled.

“We can keep going,” George offered cordially.

“Don't,” Draco said firmly and shoved Fred's arm off

“Okay,” Fred agreed reluctantly, letting Draco go. “George, don't we have some things set aside for these fine young scholars?”

“I do believe we do, Fred.”

Ginny grinned wickedly as George went to grab something from under the counter. He came back holding three purple velvet drawing bags, each about the size of a quaffle. Ginny gleefully snatched one bag from her brother. “I love you.”

“We know,” the twins said fondly, Fred ruffling his sister's hair.

“One for you,” George said, handing a bag to Draco. “Prove yourself,” he instructed, then held the last bag out to Hermione, “And one for you.”

Hermione held up her hands to refuse the bag. “I shouldn't—I'm a prefect.”

“So am I,” Draco pointed out, tugging his bag open to investigate the contents.

“It's all safe,” George assured her. “Tested everything ourselves—except for the stuff we tested on Mal-formed this summer—and none of it's against the rules.”

“Yet,” Fred corrected.

“Right, none of it's against the rules _yet_ ,” George amended. Hermione eyed the two of them skeptically. George shrugged. “Just take the bag. You don't have to use the stuff, give it away if you want to.”

“But I think we can all agree Hogwarts could use some fun,” Fred said. “Now more than ever.”

Hermione bit her lip and took the bag.

“Neville here?” Ginny asked.

“Just missed him,” George said.

“He worked this morning,” Fred elaborated, “but he's having lunch with his Gran or something.”

George nodded. “And, as you can see, Seamus is busy.”

“We should be busy too,” Fred admitted, “but we own the place so we can faff off without getting yelled at.”

“Maybe we should let you work,” Hermione said.

“Sadly, yes,” George sighed.

“Come around for dinner,” Ginny said as the little group turned to leave. “Mum's making chicken pot pie.”

“Ohh, yes,” Both twins chorussed.

The three students stood outside Madam Malkin's to wait and went through their velvet grab bags as they did. Draco rattled a small jar of shiny black rock-sugar-like lumps. “Isn't this that crap that had me coughing up smoke?”

Hermione frowned at it. “I think so.”

“I should hide it in people's food,” Ginny said thoughtfully.

Hermione looked at her. “Do you think, just maybe, that's not the sort of thing you should tell to prefects?”

“I know you,” Ginny said. “You won't turn me in, just privately shame me, more out of a sense of duty than anything else. And Malfoy doesn't care.”

“I really don't,” Draco confirmed.

Hermione sighed, shook her head, and plucked something from her bag to examine—it was a ball about the size of an apple, with a sticker smacked on it proudly proclaiming that it would never stop bouncing, complete with a tiny illustration of the same ball _boinging_ endlessly off the edges of the sticker.

The door to Madam Malkin's opened with a tinkle of bells as Remus and Sirius stepped out, Sirius carrying both their bookstore bags, Remus with a single bag from the shop they'd just left.

“Got some new clothes?” Hermione asked.

“Yeah, a few,” Remus said, sounding satisfied.

“He's a nightmare to shop for,” Sirius grumbled. “He got about half an outfit. When we're done in Diagon Ally I'm dragging his sorry arse to a muggle clothing shop.”

Ginny snickered behind her hand while Draco rolled his eyes and Hermione said, “Honestly, robes are so fussy, I can hardly blame you.”

“Exactly,” Remus said. He crossed his arms. “Proper robes have been declining in popularity for years already, nowadays most people only wear them as formal wear, and I'm just not that formal.”

“Hence why I'm dragging you to a muggle shop,” Sirius concluded. He nodded to the purple velvet sack in Ginny's hands. “I see you swung by the twins' place.”

“They gave us free stuff,” Ginny said brightly.

“With which to wreak havoc,” Hermione griped. “Nevermind that two of the three of us are prefects and supposed to be enforcing the rules.” She glared at Draco.

He shrugged. “They said none of it's against the rules yet. And with Potter not coming back to school you and I are probably going to be the most thorough rule breakers at Hogwarts this year. Stop acting so high and mighty.”

Hermione took a breath to respond but Remus put an arm around her shoulders. “Hermione,” he said gently, “from one prefect to another, and as your teacher, let me try one more time to impress upon you that a little well-meaning havoc is good for the soul. Really thought you'd have learned that by now.”

She sighed. Ginny grinned and punched Hermione's arm. Hermione rolled her eyes. “Let's just keep shopping.”

She slipped out from Remus's arm and strode off toward the apothecary, ignoring Ginny and Sirius laughing behind her. The apothecary was a small shop, lined with whitewashed shelves and glass-fronted cabinets—some of them locked—all of them crowded with jars and vials, bundles and boxes of all sorts of potion ingredients. The clerk was leaning boredly on the counter next to the till when Hermione and the others came in and he barely glanced up at the soft clanking of the glass chimes rigged to the door. The matronly owner called a distracted, “Welcome!” from the stock room.

Hermione waved through the stock room door to the owner and she, Ginny, and Draco set about collecting ingredients to replenish the basic cache of supplies they each needed for the upcoming year's worth of potion classes. Meanwhile, Remus gathered wolfsbane potion ingredients and Sirius sniffed things. The kids bought their things, then Remus lay his on the counter to pay. The clerk eyed Remus's collection of ingredients and raised an eyebrow. “This all for one thing?” he asked carefully as he counted and weighed.

“Yes,” Remus answered.

“'Cause I can only think of one thing you make with all this,” the clerk sneered, waving a bundle of dried wolfsbane flowers.

Remus leveled an unimpressed look at the clerk. “I only know of one, but I'm pretty sure you could also make poison considering how much of this is toxic.”

“What you need wolfsbane potion for, huh, mate?” the clerk asked accusatorially.

“You get one guess,” Remus responded sharply. “Now, are you going to let me pay or not?”

The owner appeared from the back room to investigate the sudden sounds of hostilty. “What's the matter in here?”

“He's a werewolf,” the clerk said, gesturing at Remus.

“Does he have money?” the owner asked.

“Yes,” Remus said, holding up and jangling his coin purse.

“Then I don't care.” She shouldered the clerk aside and started tallying. “I swear, boy, you haven't got an ounce of business sense. It doesn't matter who walks in here, even if they're a lepper—you put on some gloves and take their money. That's twelve galleons and seven sickles, sir.”

Remus dropped the coins on the counter, took his things, and walked out of the shop without a word. Sirius and the kids followed. Out in the street, Remus took a slow breath. Sirius rubbed his shoulder. Remus glanced over at the kids; Ginny looked angry, Hermione looked stunned, and Draco looked like he might be sick. Remus shrugged Sirius off and gave Draco's shoulder a squeeze.

“Did that just fucking happen?” Ginny demanded.

“That was nothing,” Remus said. “It happens.”

“I don't think I've ever actually seen something like that in real life,” Hermione breathed.

“Yes, you have,” Sirius said. “You're muggleborn and we literally just had an entire war over your right to exist.”

“That's different!” Hermione objected.

“Not really.” Remus gave Draco a gentle push. “What's our next stop?”

At the stationary shop they hit next, Draco stood quietly in the corner while the girls and Remus shopped. Sirius sidled up next to him. “You look extra pale since the apothecary.”

“I'm fine,” Draco said without looking away from the spot he was staring at on the wall.

“Bullshit,” Sirius said. “Do yourself a favor, talk to Remus at some point about people being shitty making you feel shitty.”

“I said I'm fine.” Draco looked up to glower at Sirius.

“And I said that's bullshit.” Sirius shrugged. “Are you really that stubborn of a liar or do you somehow not feel as nauseous as you look?”

Draco huffed and resumed staring at the wall. Sirius eyed him then went to snoop at what Remus was buying. “He's insisting he's fine, isn't he?” Remus asked quietly.

“Yup.” Sirius flipped through a planning book Remus was contemplating.

Remus sighed. “I'll talk to him later.”

“Good luck with that.”

 

By the time they left the stationary shop, Draco at least no longer looked like he was going to puke any moment. Sirius pulled the elastic out of his hair and redid his ponytail, which had slipped down over the course of the day. “So,” he asked, “any more stops before I make Moony buy himself some goddamn trousers?”

“I need new gloves for quidditch,” Ginny said. “The pair I had up and vanished.”

“Sure you didn't just turn them invisible?” Draco asked flatly.

“No, actually, I think your auntie stole them,” Ginny replied quickly, steering the group toward Quality Quidditch Supplies.

Draco rolled his eyes.

In the sport shop, Ginny went straight for the gloves, trying on different pairs to find one she liked. Draco idly browsed through goggles for matches in inclement weather. Hermione wandered up to a glass display case to investigate the broomstick inside. It was sleek and made of a blond wood banded with dark grain and tail twigs so dark they looked black. “That's pretty.”

“That's a damn nice broom,” Sirius said appreciatively as he stepped up beside her. “What brand is that?”

“According to the sign,” Remus said helpfully, “it's a Hellhimmel Blitzgewitter.”

Draco came over, frowning. “I have never heard of that.”

“Sounds German,” Sirius said. “Or it would if Remus could pronounce German worth shit.” Remus shoved his shoulder and Sirius grinned.

“Might be a new company,” Hermione offered. “Or one that's only just started exporting to the U.K.”

Ginny slipped around Sirius, gloves in hand, to see what the fuss was about. “Oh, that's a sexy broom.”

“Shame that not even a broom like this could improve your game,” Draco said snidely.

“Oh, shut up,” Ginny sneered. “I'm a better seeker than you and you know it.”

Draco held up his palms. “Our win history disagrees.”

“Our win history has us evenly matched.” Ginny crossed her arms. “That's with you having the best equipment Daddy can buy and me with second hand everything. If we were on even footing, I'd wipe the floor with you.”

“Are you really trying blame your mediocracy on inanimate objects?” Draco scoffed. “That's pathetic.”

“If you're only on par with me with much better equipment than me, I'd say you're the mediocre one,” Ginny challenged.

“You wish,” Draco said. “I'm better and I'll prove it.” He unclipped his coin purse from under his jacket and waved down a clerk. “Excuse me.”

“What are you doing?” Ginny asked warily.

“I'd like to buy two of these,” Draco said to the clerk with a gesture at the Blitzgewitter.

“Malfoy, don't you dare,” Ginny warned.

The clerk glanced at her briefly but kept her attention on Draco. “Two of them will be nine-hundred and twenty galleons, is that alright?”

“Absolutely,” Draco said brightly. “If you'd wrap those up for us.”

“Of course, sir,” the clerk said with a little curtsy then scurried off to the back.

“You do _not_ have that much money on you,” Ginny said scathingly.

Draco arched an eyebrow. “You wanna bet?”

Ginny ran a hand through her hair and looked to Hermione. “Help me!”

Hermione shook her head. “I'm staying out of this.”

Ginny looked to Remus and Sirius. Sirius started laughing. Remus shook his head. “I'm sorry, Ginny,” he chuckled, “but I might want to watch this play out on the quidditch pitch.”

“I hate all of you,” Ginny grumbled.


	2. Chapter 2

There was a muggle clothing shop about a block from the Leaky Cauldron in Muggle London. Somehow, shopping for Remus had turned into Draco flicking efficiently through the racks, handing the occasional piece of interest to Sirius to be passed in to the fitting room for Remus to try on.

Ginny popped the chewing gum she'd gotten from a coin operated dispenser at the front of the shop. “Since when are you helpful?” she griped at Draco, still miffed over the brooms she now had slung in their carry cases across her shoulders.

“Since when do any of you ask me to do things I'm good at?” Draco asked flatly without looking around at her. “Have him try this on,” he said, holding a jumper out to Sirius. “Granger—” he handed Hermione a waistcoat “—find a tie that doesn't look stupid with this.”

“Uh,” Hermione took the hanger and glanced at the garment, “I'll do my best.”

Not long later, Remus emerged from the fitting room in his own clothes, his hair mussed from all the doffing and donning. “I'm done,” he announced, shoving the impressive pile of clothes he was holding into Sirius's arms. “Put that jacket down,” he half-snapped at Draco, then took a deep breath, and ran his fingers through his hair to smooth it while Ginny and Hermione both studied him with cautious amusement. “That is, I think, three times my current wardrobe. I'm done.” He jabbed a finger at Sirius. “This was your idea; you're paying.”

“I assumed I'd be paying anyway,” Sirius chuckled as he started for the checkout. He dropped a tie, which Remus picked up and threw back on top of the pile.

Once Sirius paid, they left the shop. They'd hardly gone three steps into the street when a voice called from down the block, “Hermione Granger! Is that you?”

Hermione turned, blinked, then laughed, “Annelise Jurgen!”

She and the girl who'd called her name ran up to each other across the mostly empty sidewalk, each with shopping bags jangling and crinkling where they hung from their elbows. The girl—Annelise—clasped Hermione's forearms. “Goodness gracious, Granger! I can't believe it's really you, how long's it been?”

“Six years by now?” Hermione said. “Going on seven, isn't it? I thought you moved to Bristol.”

“I did,” Annelise laughed, her ponytail fountain of blond curls—almost as intense as Hermione's own mane—bouncing as she tossed her head. “I'm visiting my Auntie for the summer. How are you?”

“Good,” Hermione breathed. “I'm really good.” She turned back to her group, who had neared while she and the curly-haired blond had been talking. “This is my friend, Annelise. We used to be neighbors and we went to primary school together before I started at—at boarding school.”

“These your friends?” Annelise asked brightly.

“Yeah, well,” Hermione said, “my boyfriend's little sister, a friend from school, my best friend's godfather, and—” she looked at Remus for half a heartbeat too long “—my English teacher.”

Annelise tilted her head curiously and glanced between Hermione and Remus. “You're out shopping with your English teacher?”

“I'm a family friend,” Remus provided, gesturing between himself and Sirius. Sirius ever so slightly quirked an eyebrow at him.

Annelise still looked suspicious so Hermione added, “I've been staying at his house since my parents moved to Australia last year.”

“Your parents moved to Australia?” Annelise asked incredulously. “And they just left you here?”

“Well,” Hermione shrugged, “I only have the one year of school left now, and my best friend—his godson—is also my boyfriend's best friend, and we've all being staying there.”

“Because I am amazingly generous and kind,” Sirius said in a tone that made it really hard to tell if he was joking or not.

“That makes sense,” Annelise said, nodding.

“Half my family is living with them,” Ginny muttered with a glance at the sky. She looked at Annelise. “Our place is having some work done. Like, _a lot_ of work.”

“Oh.” Annelise blinked. “Okay.” She turned her attention back to Hermione. “I actually have somewhere I need to get to, but….” She fished a receipt out of one of her bags and a pen from the pocket of her jeans, scrawled on the back of it, and handed it to Hermione. “That's my aunt's number and my number at home. I'm here a couple more weeks—that school of yours still not let you use phones?”

Hermione gave a thin smile and shook her head. “Still no phones at school.”

Annelise sighed. “Well, before term starts, _call me_. Okay?”

“I will,” Hermione promised, tucking the receipt into her purse.

“It's good to see you.” Annelise gave Hermione a hug and went on her way.

Hermione sighed a little wistfully, bit her lip, and turned back the way they'd been going. “Let's go home.”

“Are you _crying_?” Ginny asked, astounded.

“Nope.” Hermione scrubbed the back of her hand across her eyes. “C'mon, let's go.”

“Hang on.” Ginny caught her arm. “Are you okay?”

Hermione snorted. “I left behind everything I'd known all my life when I was only eleven years old. Manages to keep in contact with a couple friends for about a year after that, but—” She shook her head. “I don't think about it much—I don't have time to—but it's rough, okay?”

Sobered, Ginny nodded. “Yeah, sorry, I, uh, never thought about that.”

Hermione shrugged. “No one does.” She pushed her hair out of her face and stepped around Remus, Sirius, and Draco, all three of whom were remarkably quiet.

 

~*~

 

“Alright, let's see what you all got,” Molly said as the shoppers gathered in the kitchen with their bags, joining the rest of the household at the table, laden as it was with Molly's cooking. She reached for a bag Remus had just set down, then startled as the twins apparated to either side of her. “Merlin's beard,” she breathed, hand to her heart. “The two of you live to torment me, don't you?”

They snickered. “Love you too, Mum,” they said together, plopping into seats next to their father, who'd looked up when they'd appeared, then gone right back to the long roll of parchment he was reading while he ate.

“I didn't know you were coming tonight,” Molly complained. “I would have made more food.”

“I think there's plenty to eat,” Fluer said, dishing out chicken pie to the new arrivals. “How was shopping, though?”

“We bought Lupin a whole new wardrobe,” Ginny said. “Turns out Malfoy's a fashonista—who knew?”

Ron—who was already eating—looked up to peer curiously at Draco. “I feel like I'm more surprised than I should be.”

“You are,” Draco said flatly.

“Are those brooms?” Harry asked, staring pointedly at the two oblong cases Ginny had set in the corner.

“Draco bought him and Ginny a matching pair,” Sirius said through a mouthful of food. “Molly, this is delicious.”

“Harry, I think you need to step your game up,” George laughed.

“That is the coupliest bullshit I think I've ever heard of,” Fred added.

“No,” Ginny said sharply while Draco dropped his face into his palm.

“That's _not_ what's happening here,” he sighed. He looked over at Harry. “Why do people always feel the need to insinuate I fancy any girl you have much of anything to do with?”

“Wait, what?” Harry asked.

Draco pushed his plate forward. “It might just be within Slytherin house, but I swear, any girl you so much as talk to, people start saying I fancy her. First year, after you pulled that stunt at Halloween, I think four of my classmates asked me if I fancied Hermione within a week—I don't think I'd actually held a conversation with her at that point.”

“Depends on your definition of 'conversation,'” Hermione muttered.

Draco paused. “I honestly don't remember speaking to you until we all got detention, though I'm sure it must have happened—and knowing eleven year old me, it was probably unpleasant. Which, if anything, reinforces how ridiculous this entire thing is. I think every one of my roommates thought we'd had some kind of lovers' spat when you hit me third year. Then fourth year, Harry, you go to the Yuel Ball with...one of the Patil twins.”

“Pavarti,” Harry provided.

“Right,” Draco said dismissively. “After the dance I started dating Pansy, and she asked me directly if I was only dating her because I was trying to make someone else jealous—strongly implying one of the Patils. And I know the two of you are joking,” he said to Fred and George, “but you're not the first people to say something about me being interested in your sister, and they _weren't_ joking. I have no idea where this comes from.” He snatched up his fork and resumed eating.

No one said anything for a moment. Ron cleared his throat awkwardly. Sirius summoned himself a drink.

“Harry, Hermione,” Arthur said slowly and distractedly, “in your experience, are the laws regarding restriction of underaged magic _particularly_ more punitive for witches and wizards living in the muggle community?”

“Yes,” Harry and Hermione said together.

“A doxy got into my house a few years ago,” Hermione said, “and I had to feed it to my _Monster Book of Monsters_ because I couldn't use magic to deal with it, even though I was more than capable of it, because I'd have been expelled if I did. If I didn't live in a muggle neighborhood, I could have just done the spell and the Ministry wouldn't have been any the wiser because they can't really tell who in any given house is doing the magic. As the only witch for miles, though….”

“Yeah, I nearly got arrested, like, twice,” Harry said. “Once for something I didn't even know I could do and didn't mean to do, once for something I didn't do. Then I actually _did_ get arrested. And that's without getting into the mess that was trying to do my summer homework.”

Arthur nodded and made a note on his scroll.

 

After dinner, Remus and Draco choked down their first doses of potion that cycle. Draco grabbed a biscuit from a plate on the table, shoved the entire thing in his mouth, and stalked out of the room. Remus followed. “Draco, can I talk to you?”

“I think you _are_ talking to me, aren't you?” Draco said around the last of his biscuit.

“You know what I mean.” Remus half rolled his eyes and took a breath. “Earlier, at the apothecary—”

“It's fine.”

“—you shut down for nearly an hour,” Remus pointed out firmly. “That's not fine. What happened _isn't_ fine, but it does _happen_ , and that's going to a fact of your life for the rest of your life, and you need to be prepared for that.”

“Like you didn't get all huffy.”

“Sure, I got huffy.” Remus crossed his arms. “The clerk's a bigoted git. It's worth getting huffy over. I'm not saying you have to have a non-reaction, but you have to carry on with your day. Life doesn't stop because people suck. Let me tell you, what happened today was _nothing_. It was so minor. I realize you've been lucky enough to be able to actually keep your condition a secret, people don't know and aren't inclined to suspect—it's probably the one good thing to come out of your father being a Death Eater—but that won't be true forever. Secrets leak over time, magically protected or not.”

“I was just surprised,” Draco snapped. He took a breath. “I'd kind of forgotten that ordinary people, not Death Eaters, think like that.”

“Some of them do,” Remus sighed. “They're not evil, most of them are probably perfectly decent people in general.”

“So it's normal and that's okay?” Draco challenged.

“What am I supposed to do? Start a duel in the street every time a shop keeper makes a snide comment?” Remus laughed coldly. “I'd be dead, and not because I'm a bad duelist, just because anyone who starts _that many_ duels is going to wind up dead. The kid at the apothecary is little more than a nuisance. I have been physically removed from places of business, been hexed, had things thrown at me, had my apparition license suspended three times for no reason other than some bureaucrat somewhere was uncomfortable with a _monster_ having that much freedom of movement, been evicted from two flats, denied leases I don't know how many times—I stopped counting around six. I have been sacked, pressured to resign, and outright denied jobs. Bartenders have quietly tried to poison me at least twice. Not everyone is like that, but those people are out there, and most of them _aren't_ Death Eaters. Sometimes, sure, it's worth it to call them out, but most of the time, simply for self preservation, the best course of action is to just move along. It's not worth the fight.”

Draco stared at him.

From the end of the hall, Sirius cleared his throat, making both Remus and Draco jump. “For the record,” he said slowly, “what he means is, it's not worth the fight based on his world view and generally conflict-averse temperament. You are absolutely allowed to punch people in the teeth or hex them as you see fit. Also, when the fuck were you poisoned and why don't I know about it?”

Remus held up his hands. “You were in prison, and I was never actually poisoned, a couple shitheads just tried.”

“Still!”

 

Upstairs, Ron slipped into the room he and Hermione were sharing and carefully closed the door against the near-shouting going on in the downstairs hall. “Hey, you okay?”

Hermione looked up and nodded. She was sitting on the floor in the middle of the room, muggle books and nick-nacks strewn across the rug around her.

“Ginny said you ran into your friend.” He dropped to the floor next to her and leaned his chin on her shoulder

“Yeah,” Hermione breathed and flipped the page of the completely stationary picture book in her lap. “It was good to see her. She gave me her phone number. I think I'll find a payphone tomorrow and call her.”

“Sounds like a good plan.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and shifted to pull her into his lap. “What're you reading?”

“It's called _The Case of the Cat's Meow._ It was my uncle's, but he gave it to me when I was little.” She turned the page, the paper a little stiff and yellowed with age, but the text was still clear, the oranges and reds still bright where they supplemented the pen ink illustrations. “It's about these kids whose cat goes missing, so they look everywhere for her and they think someone must've stolen her, but it turns out she was just hiding because she'd had kittens. It's a really sweet little mystery story.”

“Huh. Cute.”

Hermione sighed, closed the book, and leaned back against him. “Every once in a while, I'll— wonder what my life would look like right now if I weren't a witch, if I'd never known about magic and everything. I honestly can't imagine.”

“I know one thing,” Ron said, “you wouldn't have me, your wonderful boyfriend.” He kissed her neck then blew a raspberry.

She yelped with laughter, smacked the top of his head, and wriggled out of his embrace. “Exactly,” she said, corralling her hair up into a scrunchie. “I wouldn't know you, or your family, or Harry, or really anyone I actually know at this point. This is my life and I love it, but—” She shrugged.

“But you miss the life you thought you'd have?” Ron guessed.

“Yes.”

“You wanna, I dunno,” he shrugged, “visit your parents? I mean, this stuff,” he picked up a torch and twirled it in his fingers, “it's still your stuff. Yeah, you're a witch—a brilliant witch—but that doesn't make you not the dentists' daughter, right?”

“Yeah,” Hermione said softly. She took the torch from him and clicked it on. “Visiting my parents would be good. I'll call them tomorrow too.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Are you sure you don't want to come with us?” Hermione asked. She, Ron, Ginny, and Harry were gathered around the dining room fireplace with their collected luggage.

“You know tonight's the full moon, right?” Draco asked facetiously.

“Well, yes,” Hermione said. “Honestly, at this point my parents are liable to just roll with most any magical strangeness so I doubt they'd be bothered. I don't want you to feel stuck just because—”

“I'd rather stay here,” he interrupted, holding up a hand.

“Okay,” Hermione said softly.

“C'mon, Hermione,” Harry said with a yawn. “Your parents expected us there an hour ago.”

“I know, I know.” She grabbed Crookshanks's basket. “Let's go.”

In a flash of green fire, the four of them were off to Perth, Australia for a late lunch with Mr. and Mrs. Granger. Draco watched the brief flames die down in the grate, the early morning sun filtering in through the sheer curtains.

“Draco, dear?” Molly's soft voice asked from the doorway. She was still in her dressing gown. “Won't you come help me make breakfast? I don't think anyone else is awake just yet.”

“Hm? Oh. Yeah, sure.”

They went down to the kitchen, their footsteps uncannily loud in the quiet house. Molly lit the lamps in the kitchen with a wave of her wand and set about pulling things out to cook with. “You got up to see your friends off, hm?”

Draco shrugged. “I was awake anyway, heard them get up.”

“Hm,” Molly hummed. She pointed to a pallet of eggs. “Can you crack about twenty of those?”

Draco sighed and rolled his sleeves up just a couple turns. “I don't understand why you don't use magic for things like this.”

“If I don't have anyone to help me, I do,” Molly said as she finely chopped vegetables and meat. “I think I've told you, though, it turns out better if you do it by hand.”

“You've mentioned,” Draco muttered and cracked an egg into a bowl.

 

~*~

 

“Mum!” Hermione called, brushing soot off her jumper as she stepped out of her parents' fireplace which she'd managed to get temporarily connected to the floo network. “Dad! We're here!”

Mrs. Granger appeared in the doorway, beaming. “Hermione!” She rushed forward to hug her daughter as her husband stepped into the room behind her. “I'm so glad you were able to find time to visit again before school started back.” She stepped back, letting Hermione hug her father, and looked to the other kids. “I don't think we've ever properly met but I know I know who you all are. Ron.” She held out a hand for him to shake.

“I'll be keeping an eye on you,” Mr. Granger said, then wheezed as Hermione elbowed him sharply in the ribs. Acting as though she'd done no such thing, Hermione stooped to release her cat from his wicker prison. He immediately darted under the sofa.

Ron smiled nervously and mumbled, “Nice to meet you.”

Mrs. Granger rolled her eyes. “Don't mind him.” She patted Ron's shoulder. “I trust my little girl to reduce you to a puddle of goo—quite literally—if you do her wrong. You must be Ginny,” she said, breezily moving on from Ron. Ginny curtsied cutely. “And Harry,” Mrs. Granger concluded, shaking Harry's hand. “There's lunch in the dining room if you want to—”

“First,” Hermione interrupted her mother, holding a finger up. She dug in her purse and produced and oblong, carved wooden box with a hinged lid, which she flicked open and held out to her friends. “Wands,” she said sternly.

“No, you're joking,” Ron said, aghast while Ginny stared in abject horror.

“The two of you were saying you were curious about how muggles live without magic,” Hermione sing-songed. “You're going to learn,” she finished sharply.

“This was your idea, Ron,” Harry laughed, stepping between Ron and Ginny as he drew his wand from his jeans pocket to place it in the box.

Ron reluctantly did the same as Harry. Ginny warily pulled her wand from her sleeve, but hesitated just before putting it in the box. “If we're all going no magic, isn't that purse of yours cheating?”

“Nope.” Hermione grinned and nodded to her mother. “I swear she's had one my entire life.”

Mrs. Granger chuckled. Ginny sighed and relinquished her wand. Hermione snapped the box shut, set it carefully on the mantle, and turned back to face the room. “So, lunch?”

There were sandwiches, mostly made by Mr. Granger. “I would've made something more substantial,” he explained apologetically, “but we were both in the office all this morning.”

“It's fine, Dad,” Hermione said. “These are great.”

“Besides,” Harry added, “to us it's about six in the morning, anything much more would've been too much.”

“I told you it would be fine, Wilbur,” Mrs. Granger said over her cup of tea.

After they ate, everyone filed back into the living room where Crookshanks had perched himself on a windowsill still stare with judgmental fascination at the wilds of urban Australia. Harry caught Hermione's eye and glanced meaningfully at the other end of the room. Hermione grinned. “Mum, would you mind if we turned on the tellie?”

“Oh, no, go ahead,” Mrs. Granger said as she went over to pet Crookshanks.

“Feeling deprived of your nature documentaries?” Mr. Granger joked.

“Just a bit,” Hermione chuckled. She picked up the remote, aimed it at the television, and mashed the power button. With a faint buzz and crackle, the screen faded to light. Ron and Ginny eyed the box warily as an announcer in a suit, and a bright spangly spinning prize wheel solidified on screen. “C'mere.” Hermione grabbed Ron's hand, pulled him over, pushed his sleeve up, and held his arm close to the glass.

He recoiled at the feeling of all his arm hair standing on end, then held his arm to the glass again, pulled back, and neared the screen, pulled back, and neared the screen. “Why's it do that?”

“Why's it do what?” Ginny asked, rolling up her own sleeve to imitate her brother. She shivered and stepped away. “Why's it do that?”

Hermione grinned. “Electricity.”

Mr. Granger glanced over at Harry, who was watching the redheads with amusement. “This sort of thing is going to be happening the entire time you all are here, isn't it?”

“Absolutely,” Harry nodded. “It's going to be brilliant.”


	4. Chapter 4

Sirius hated moonrise. He leaned against the wall in the hallway and tried not to listen through the door to the increasingly animalistic sounds of Remus in pain. Remus didn't like him being in the room, being able to see—and Sirius had never been inclined to object to that particular exile.

Things quieted down behind the door. Sirius lay a hand on the doorknob, took a breath, turned it, and went in, pushing the door half closed behind him. Remus was prone on the floor, a lump of grey-brown fur, eyes closed, sides heaving with his breathing. Sirius sat next to him and petted him, smoothing his fur, scritching behind his ear, until Remus looked up at him. “Hey,” he said softly. “You okay?”

Remus huffed and scowled.

“Right, stupid question.” He transformed and curled around Remus. Remus licked his face—which left a patch of fur on Sirius's snout sticking the wrong way—rolled over, got up, and shook himself out.

Sirius got to his feet and was just about to pounce on Remus when there was a soft knock at the doorframe. It was Fleur. “Bill's hungry, I'm cooking—do you want anything?”

Remus and Sirius shared a look. Sirius stood up, human. “Sure.”

He went out into the hall, Remus at his heels. Bill was just out of sight of the door, eyes dark, looking like he had a wicked headache. Sirius clapped his shoulder. “I hope you realize how lucky you are with that one.”

“Oh, 'e does,” Fleur said with a flash of teeth as she breezed past them down the hall to the stairs.

While Fleur made sausages, Bill nursed a beer and Sirius sat with Remus between his feet, head resting on Sirius's knee while Sirius gave him scritches under the curve of his jaw. “You know,” Bill said slowly, “the two of you are a lot more overtly affectionate when one or both of you's canine.”

Remus tilted his head the other way and Sirius shrugged.

“Of course they are,” Fleur said. “You Brits are all so uncomfortable with displays of sexuality at all, you're all programmed to not show intimacy around others—then they're both men so between the stigma against 'omosexuality and the simple fact that men are bad at being affectionate in general in my experience, it's no wonder they're really not very affectionate most of the time.” She shrugged. “But, if one of them is a dog—or both, but especially if one—it's desexualized. No one thinks of dogs in that way. So it's not awkward.”

“I have never actually thought about any of that,” Sirius said, “but I think you're right.”

Remus nodded.

“I don't think we're _that_ prudish as a culture,” Bill objected.

“You are,” Fleur said shortly over the sound of paws on the stairs. “Especially compared to France. Other countries, a politician has a mistress and it's a national scandal—in France we're vaguely surprised if 'e doesn't have a mistress.”

Draco stopped in the doorway, head tilted, one ear pricked. Bill held up a warding hand. “You know what, don't worry about it.”

Fleur laughed.

 

~*~

 

In the morning, Sirius pulled a naked Remus under the covers with him. Remus pressed his face against Sirius's neck and groaned, “Oww.”

Sirius rubbed his back. “What's the odds of you getting any more sleep?”

“Slim to none,” Remus grumbled.

“At least there's only one more night this month, right?” Sirius murmured.

“Yeah.” Remus sighed and stretched—about six things popped.

“Are you going to be okay alone at Hogwarts?”

“I managed before,” Remus yawned. “I'll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Sirius, I've spent more of my life without you than with you. I can, in fact, survive on my own.”

“Ouch,” Sirius said, nuzzling his face into Remus's throat. “Cut me to the bone, why don't you?” He kissed the hollow of Remus's shoulder.

“Quit that.”

“You don't sound very convincing.”

Remus cuffed his ear.

“Alright, alright,” Sirius chuckled and settled for snuggling against Remus. “I still miss you,” he murmured.

“Sirius, I'm right here.”

“You have to leave in a week.”

“Yes, I do.” Remus pulled away and sat up. “But It's only for the school year, not forever—I get the school holidays off and it won't be like before. I'll write, you'll write, and if I'm not too busy you can in fact come visit.”

“I'm allowed to visit you won't get anything done,” Sirius said flatly.

“That's true,” Remus agreed with a sigh.

“Why do you have to leave so much before the kids, anyway?” Sirius grumbled, pulling Remus into his lap.

“It's not even two weeks before,” Remus objected as he leaned against Sirius. “I have staff meetings.”

“Didn't you take the goddamn train in ninety-three? Got there same as the students.”

“Yes,” Remus breathed. “And it was in very poor form, I missed all the meetings I was supposed to be at, spent a good month playing catch up.”

“Why did you take the train? You've never told me.”

“Apparition license suspended again.”

“Ah.” Sirius let his hands trail down Remus's waist.

“I'm really not in the mood, Sirius.”

“I can fix that.”

“Sirius, no.”

“Alright,” Sirius relented. “Wanna throw some clothes on and go watch the sunrise over the rooftops like the romantic saps we pretend we're not?”

Remus chuckled softly. “Sure.”


	5. Chapter 5

“You know,” Ron whimpered, “we've really misjudged devilsnare all these years.”

“We really have.” Harry gasped in pain and cursed fluently and Mrs. Granger ripped a wax strip off his leg, taking his hair and a few thousand stinging gympie needles with it. “It's such a nice, gentle plant.”

“Honestly,” Mrs. Granger said as she readied another wax strip, “I don't know how you boys got yourselves into this mess—gympie doesn't even grow in this part of the country.”

“They're trouble magnets,” Hermione sighed and ripped a strip off of Ron. He cried.

Looking on, Ginny sipped a juice pouch—her new favorite muggle thing—and shook her head. “I can't believe this is the best way to deal with this.”

“It is,” Mrs. Granger said. She tore up the next strip and Harry bit his hand.

“There's probably a way to do this by magic,” Hermione admitted, “but I don't know what it is, I really don't want to accidentally make things worse, and it's best we get this dealt with as soon as possible. Hold still, Ron.”

“That hurts!”

“I know it hurts but would you rather I leave the stingers in your skin?” Hermione snapped.

“No,” Ron whined.

“I didn't think so.”

“This really isn't how I thought we'd be spending our last day here,” Ginny mused.

“Ginny, either make yourself useful or sod off,” Ron snarled.

Ginny tossed her juice pouch in the bin, went over, and took Harry's hand. “I'm useful. I'm emotional support.” She kissed his cheek and grinned at her brother.

“Love you,” Harry said tightly, “but you're not actually helping.”

 

~*~

 

Molly bustled up to hug the travelers as they emerged from the dining room fireplace. “I can't believe I'm the only one here to greet you all. How was your trip? Oh, Harry, Ron, dear, you look awful. Did something happen?”

“They managed to wander into a stinging bush,” Hermione said, “so we spent the morning waxing their legs. Other than that, it was a very nice trip.”

“So dad's home?” Ginny asked.

“He's gone to see to something about the Burrow, but he should be back soon.” She smoothed down a bit of Ginny's hair. “We ought to be able to move back in before Halloween.”

“Cool.” Ginny bounced on her toes and re-mussed her hair. “But I have so much to tell dad about.”

“Tetris,” Ron said simply, making Harry snicker a little.

Molly frowned. “What on earth is that?”

“It's a game,” Hermione said. “Is there food? It's already dinner time for us.”

“Oh, yes, I've just made lunch,” Molly ushered them out into the hall, sending their luggage levitating up the stairs by itself. “Fleur's taught me to make crepes.”

 

Arthur arrived just as everyone was sitting down to eat.

“Dad!” Ginny exclaimed, steering him into a seat.

“Well, hello,” Arthur chuckled. “You're in a good mood. How was your trip?”

“Great.” Ginny dropped into a seat across from her father. “Harry and Ron nearly got killed by an amazingly non-magical plant this morning but they're fine. I have stories for you.”

“We did not almost get killed,” Ron objected, already with a full mouth. His mother lightly smacked the back of his head.

“So, television is amazing,” Ginny stated, completely ignoring her brother. She took a bite of cheese and chicken crepe. “Mm, these are really good, Mum. Anyway. You turn on the box and it lights up and shows pictures. Oh, and if you hold your arm up to the screen when it's on, it makes all your arm hair stand up because the way it makes the pictures is inside the box it's shooting beams of electricity at the glass, right?” She looked to Hermione, who nodded. “Right, cool. But so the pictures move, only it's not like our photos. They don't interact with you at all, you just watch them, but there's also sound. Some shows are actors playing roles, acting out stories, so it's like watching a play but it looks like real life because they're not stuck on a stage—”

“It's a little like watching a memory in a pensive,” Harry interjected. “Except it's on a screen.”

Arthur nodded interestedly. “Alright.”

“And some of them are more like drawings than photos. But other shows,” Ginny continued, “are games. And I don't just mean sports, but they put sports on television too. Sports from all over the world. But, no, there are these shows they actually call gameshows where you just watch people play these completely ridiculous games for prizes. Like there's one where to win you have to guess how much something costs and get closer than the other people playing. If you guess the closest, you win the thing who's price you just guessed. Things like a boat. Or a blender—which is a kind of kitchen machine for crushing and mixing stuff so you can drink it.”

“That sounds useful,” Molly noted.

“It is,” Hermione confirmed.

“Tell him about the arcade,” Ron said.

“Right,” Ginny took a breath, “so Hermione took us to an arcade.”

There was a pop and one of the twins appeared in the corner of the room. “Oh good, there's food.”

“Hey, Fred,” Ginny said brightly. “Actually, good, I want you to hear this too. Where's George.”

“He's got Angelina over and there are some things I just don't need to be privy to,” Fred said as he sat at the table and summoned himself a plate.

Harry tilted his head. “I thought you were dating Angelina.”

“Yeah, like four years ago,” Fred snorted. He stretched out his left leg with a bit of a groan. “Anyone gonna be bothered if I take my leg off? I've been on my feet all morning, got caught in the rain, and I think I'm chafing.”

Around the table there was head shaking and Molly said, “Make yourself comfortable, dear.”

Fred rolled up his trousers to unbuckle his prosthetic and lay it on the floor next to his chair. “So, whats going on?”

“I was just telling dad, Hermione took us to an arcade in Perth,” Ginny said. “They've got all these games—they're a little like the roasted nut dispenser near your shop, the one with the little dragon? They're coin operated like that but they're electric and they're games, not dispensers. There's this one, it's called Tetris, that has blocks that fall from the sky and you can move them and turn them so they fit together and when you get them to all fit together all the way across the board they vanish. If they pile up to the top you lose. And they fall faster the longer you play. Ron's really good at it.”

“It's actually an old game,” Hermione said. “Honestly, arcades like that are old—a lot of them have closed because people just don't come play anymore.”

“Which is _stupid_ ,” Ron said, “because arcades are _brilliant_.”

“What I'm hearing,” Fred said between bites of crepe, “is you think me and George should open the first wizarding arcade?”

“Yes,” Ginny said firmly.

Fred chuckled. “I'll look into it.”

 

~*~

 

“I should be packing,” Remus sighed.

“Shut up and drink your milkshake,” Sirius laughed. Somehow, over the past four days, a massive group fieldtrip to an arcade in London had been organized. Now Remus and Sirius were leaning against a half wall that separated the concession area from the rest of the arcade, each with a drink in hand—in Remus's case, a chocolate milkshake—watching Arthur go absolutely mental over a pinball game while Ginny repeatedly set new high scores on some kind of dancing game and Harry and Draco used ski ball as a way to measure their dicks. It had taken about ninety seconds for the everyone to stop being weird about being in muggle London and get competitive. Except for Arthur. He'd been precisely the same caliber of giddy the entire time.

“Are the two of you not going to play?” Fleur asked, walking up to them with a pink plush unicorn in her arms.

“Did you win that?” Remus asked, ignoring her question and eyeing the unicorn.

“Bill won it for me,” she said fondly. “From the, uh, claw machine. It took him several tries, but Fred encouraged him to keep playing until he won.”

“That's awfully supportive of him,” Sirius noted and slurped his slushy.

Fleur shrugged. “'E was taking notes.”

“That sounds more right,” Remus said.

“Come, though,” Fleur said gently. “Play something. Have fun. Remus, you're going to be busy, you should take the time now to enjoy yourself.”

“She's not wrong,” Sirius said.

Remus sighed and sipped his milkshake. “What do you think I should play?”

Fleur shrugged. “Probably something with blinking lights.”

“That's everything in here,” Sirius pointed out.

She grinned. “Exactly.”

Remus looked around. He could here Draco and Harry and now also Ron all cursing at ski ball, Molly was applauding Arthur at pinball, Ginny and Hermione had started another song on the dancing game. Sirius slurpped up the remainder of his drink, chucked the cup in the bin, and bumped Remus's shoulder. “There's a motorcycle racing game over there. Play that with me.”

Remus snorted and threw away his cup too. “Okay.”


	6. Epilogue

After they all got home from the arcade and had eaten, Remus retreated to his room to pack. He'd gotten all his clothes other than what he planned to wear tomorrow into his steamer trunk along with his books, notebooks, and sundries. He turned at the sound of a gentle knock on his doorframe. Hermione held up a cardboard carrybox of bottles. “Room for these?”

“I think I can find somewhere to put them, thank you.” He took the bottles from her. “Did you make this early just to send it off with me?”

She shrugged. “I realized we don't know who's taching potions this year so I figured it would be better to just make sure, especially since how early in the month the October full moon is.”

“I appreciate that.”

She gave a thin-lipped smile, nodded, and left again. Remus set about shoving the bottles in with his socks.

Sirius came in later when Remus already laying in bed with a book, fell into bed with him, deftly plucked the book from his hands, marked the page, set it aside, and pulled him into his lap to snuggle. “I'm going to miss you,” Sirius breathed into his hair.

“So you've told me at least once a day for more than a week,” Remus teased. He kissed Sirius's cheek.

“But now you're leaving tomorrow so I'm _really_ going to miss you.”

Remus turned around and lay his hands on Sirius's shoulders. “If you're angling for a goodbye shag, just tell me.”

“I certainly wouldn't object to a goodbye shag.” Sirius grinned.

Remus rolled his eyes, ran his fingers through Sirius's curls, and kissed him deeply.

 

~*~

 

In the morning, after breakfast, Remus stood from the table, set his coffee mug in the sink to wash itself, and said, “Well, I guess I'd better be off.”

Hermione got up and hugged him hard. “Good luck.”

“Hey, I'll see you in a couple weeks.”

“I know,” she said with a little smile as she stepped back. “Good luck with the bureaucracy in the meantime.”

“Thank you, Hermione,” he chuckled, hugging Harry, then Ron, then Ginny.

“Do write,” Molly admonished.

“I will,” Remus promised. “And I'm sure the kids will gladly tell stories on me.”

“Oh, definitely,” Ginny said with a grin.

“Come on,” Sirius said with a hand on Remus's back. “Let's get you on your way.”

Remus gave his last few goodbyes to the rest of the household, then let Sirius guide him upstairs where his trunk was sitting waiting in their room. Sirius pushed him up against the back of the door and kissed him. “Not again, Sirius,” Remus breathed. He pushed Sirius back and kissed his hair. “I love you, but no more.”

Sirius sighed and nodded. “I'm not trying to be so—”

“I know.” Remus smoothed his shirt and hair. “It's okay.” He kissed Sirius one more time, too quick for him to really kiss back. “I'll miss you, too.”

“This school year's going to be rough, isn't it?” Sirius asked softly.

Remus nodded. “Probably worse for the kids than for me.”

“Yeah, but you're going to have to deal with a bunch of traumatized kids all year.”

Remus shrugged. “Nothing new, then.” He hugged Sirius tightly and took a deep breath. “I'll write you.”

“Okay,” Sirius murmured back, taking the opportunity to cling to him, even if just for a moment. Remus gently detached himself, touched Sirius's face, then took his trunk by the handle, and apparated to Hogsmeade.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 3 of this series is pending, keep an eye out!  
> Thanks for reading.


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